


Strategy is Key

by monsieurerwin



Series: Happy Avengers are the Best Avengers [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha is the best wingwoman, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Underage Drinking, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6523912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsieurerwin/pseuds/monsieurerwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Natasha crash the best frat house party of the quarter. A certain frat, with a certain Steve, who certainly thinks Sam is really good at playing pool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strategy is Key

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackistruelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackistruelove/gifts).



“ _ I  _ think you should go talk to him.”

 

“Have you lost your  _ damn mind?  _ That is Steve Rogers! Kappa's most popular member. As in big, blonde, hot, and totally out of my league.” 

 

Sam didn't even have to look to know Natasha was definitely rolling her eyes at his latest reasoning for why he was staying right here on the edge of the pool table. He was a gentleman goddamnit, and he would wait patiently as she utterly annihilated him again. 

 

See, there it was. With a deft flick, Natasha sent the eight ball neatly into the corner pocket and that meant Sam had to drink  another beer. So far, she'd made him drink four beers meanwhile he'd won once and out of pity, she'd stolen a shot of tequila and downed it to catch up to his buzz. 

 

Sometime around the second game, Steve had made his way back inside the Kappa House and may or may not have affected Sam's concentration. 

 

Around the fourth game, Natasha had started mentioning that Sam was awful interested in that fireplace that happened to be right next to a certain blonde. 

 

And now, with another crushing defeat in game five, Sam was _ maybe _ considering talking to Steve. 

 

“Fine Sam, finish your beer and I'll play you again. But this time, if I win again you gotta go talk to him.” 

 

Challenge. Accepted.

 

Sam knew this was a bad idea, but the combination of beer and desperation were getting to him. So here he was, racking up the cue balls and trying to think of a suitable bet to counter Natasha's own. 

 

“But if I win Tasha,  _ you _ have to finally text Clint back. I'm tired of him pouting during practice.” 

 

But that smile on her face meant she was plotting something, Sam was just too many steps behind to figure out what. 

 

So he decided to break the set and start the game. 

 

Except this time around, it looked like Natasha might let him win. That or she snuck in another shot or two when he wasn't looking. Otherwise it wouldn't make sense for why she was flubbing some easy shots. 

 

He was so close to winning, if only he could lean over the table just a little bit further…

 

“You know every time you do that, Blondie keeps staring at your ass?”

 

“ _ WHAT THE FUUUUUCK?”  _

 

And his shot went wide, just like his eyes when he turned to look at Natasha. 

 

“Natasha, I knew you were sneaky but I never took your for a cheater. Stop messing with me and play this fucking game.”

 

“Sam, I swear. Blondie over there cannot stop staring at that fine piece of ass you've stuffed into those jeans. We both know how this game is going to end, so just get over yourself and go talk to him.” 

 

San wasn't sure whether to be delighted in the fact that Steve might possibly be interested, or annoyed that Natasha was so confident she could win while he was still in the lead. 

 

The beer helped make that choice too. 

 

“What do I talk to him about? Oh my goodness, what if he's not interested? That would be so embarrassing. Oh, I can't do this Tasha.” 

 

Later, Sam would wonder whether she'd planned this from the start. But while he had been blabbing (and hyperventilating a little) Steve had started walking past the pool table and Natasha was somehow right next to him, pool stick in hand. And with a sharp backwards jab, she'd hit Steve's beer right out of his hand and all over Sam. 

 

He'd have to thank her for that later. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt from [this list](http://lacertusprince.tumblr.com/post/137653688730/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you). 
> 
> I'm just trying to survive the next month before Civil War premiers.


End file.
